hpv and me 𐙚⊹₊⋆☆

Before I jump into the very heady string of existential essays I explained were coming last newsletter, I feel the urge to share about a vulnerable and humbling experience I just came out the other end of. Thanks for being here, stay tuned for some neat stuff!

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I had a full circle Sarah Silverman wormhole moment in my life recently. Not sure if any of you ever watched the Sarah Silverman Program that aired on comedy central from 2007-2010, but I managed to see a few episodes back in its heyday. I don’t recall much from the show, except for one episode that seared itself into my memory—the one where she thinks she has AIDS¹, which you can watch a clip from here.

During her appointment to get tested, the nurse asks her some routine questions which all end up pointing to a high chance she’s been exposed to the virus. Convinced she has it, in the few days awaiting her test results, she becomes an AIDS advocate taking to the streets in protest and essentially becomes the new poster child for its awareness movement. The episode reeks of absurdity and inappropriateness *spoiler alert coming* but the real kicker is when she receives her test results mid-campaign only to find that they’re negative (-). She swiftly ditches her role as AIDS advocate and cheerfully moves on with her life. At the time my still developing brain was entertained but also a bit horrified—what if I get AIDS? What if I get a terminal disease and no one loves me or wants me?

I wonder how this would hold up now, but I also think she’s pointing to something more in this bit. Or perhaps it’s just my own projections. But it reminds me of A. myself/us—jumping to conclusions without verifiable proof. And B. people who use the pain of others as a campaign for their own agenda.

Upon my return home from Spain and Portugal in early fall of last year, I got strep throat. The plane ride was pretty miserable, but fortunately as soon as I got back I had it treated with antibiotics. I instantly felt better, but no less than a week later the sore throat returned and my mouth felt as if canker sores were covering it. I looked in the mirror, to my dismay, and found some fleshy bumps underneath and at the back of my tongue². Before anything else I went to the internet, which pretty much gave me the options of HPV or cancer. Typical. I’ve had a couple run ins with HPV in my adult life, which is not uncommon. But HPV in my fucking mouth? Dear gob what did I do to deserve this?—(p.s. to think one did something to deserve something is a natural, but ultimately unhelpful and untrue thought to have when facing an unwanted situation)³.

For weeks I went on a very expensive and unsuccessful quest to find a professional who could diagnose my mouth. Some dentists, a derm, and a doc. I kept asking, is it HPV? No, no. They’d say. Or—I don’t know, try someone else. During that time I had to sit through waves of guilt and shame, of why me? Looking at the internet, I convinced myself that is was HPV, even though none of them fully fit my situation. Even when I was told it was nothing, I wouldn’t let myself believe it. When I finally circled back to the first dentist roughly 5 weeks later who told me it was likely from the strep, he agreed, okay maybe you have HPV in your mouth—potentially heck’s disease (which is a rare, contagious, non-sexually transmitted form of HPV). Great.

By this time it’s mid November, I take his referral and begin the search for an oral pathologist (a much more specific and knowledgeable dentist) who will do a biopsy to confirm if it’s HPV. After a series of frustrating phone calls and nearly a week of time, I am finally able to make an apt for the second week of January, which was the earliest available. In the time in-between I reached out to a few friends confessing my HPV mouth dilemma, alongside making sure, anxiously, my partner was aware and that his penis didn’t come near my mouth or touch my saliva, and telling my family at the holiday dinner table that I can’t share food because I may have a contagious virus in my mouth.

All of this may sound stressful, and indeed it was, but I was also humbled by all of the care and support I received, even from the person who I may have potentially put at risk (my boyfriend). When I told him it’s probably HPV, he said “Woo-hoo, at least it’s not cancer!” I was also humbled by the fact that I spoke so openly and honestly about it (which is obviously the responsible thing to do)—but a younger me would’ve feared her exile for doing such things.

I was actually going to write all about it here as it was happening. I have a draft saved explaining my situation, and how viruses are also just trying to survive, and how we mustn’t shame ourselves or others for getting one, sexually or otherwise. And how, we can’t even fully protect one another from them entirely, like, we can do our best but sometimes you’re gonna wake up one day with HPV in your mouth even though you’ve been in a monogamous relationship and had the vaccine (albeit much later in life).

I expressed how I felt agony over why me? but quickly kept coming back to—why not me? I’m a human disposed to a world that can make me ill, and will most certainly eventually kill me, just like anyone else. Moral of the story, I was about to lean in and seek to become a full blown HPV advocate, share my story, post it to insta, become the poster child… but then for some reason—didn’t. Maybe I’ll get the biopsy first, just to be sure, I thought. Well, after my apt I have waited so patiently for, no biopsy is necessary. I just have a fleshy underneath of tongue and everything else looks fine.

Oh. Oh!

As I left the medical building into the street, future wide open, skipping with delight, I called my partner gleefully inviting the long awaited return of his penis being able to enter my mouth. I sent texts with confetti to friends exclaiming, “I don’t have HPV in my mouth!” I alerted my family of the good news. All of us rejoiced in my health. I can make out with strangers (if I really wanted to), I can share food and drink, and most importantly I can not worry about spreading an infectious virus. It really is the little things.

What a simple joy, to not have HPV in my mouth. But also, to have faced having HPV in my mouth, and accepted my fate of that, too. To have been supported, not ostracized, still respected, still comforted and held and loved—by others, but most importantly—by myself. To have a partner who will take me even if I become infected. To have friends I can share honestly about my health scares with, who will witness me and not shame me in that struggle. To have a family who will still wash my plate for me as I stress to make sure they wash their hands so they don’t get HPV. This to me is abundance. This to me is powerful—it’s true care. This to me is coming full circle out of adolescent fears about worth being tied to our health—about disease, sexually transmitted and in general, being a moral failing instead of what it actually is—just something that happens. That becoming infected is not a thing of bad luck, but of being a mortal who is alive alongside other organisms/viruses also trying to live.

Walking home through Williamsburg, I remembered that Sarah Silverman episode. I laughed at how my life nearly eerily imitated her art. I laughed because HPV (in my case) was not life threatening, even though in moments it felt that way in my body—how the image of myself as “someone who is clean” being obliterated by a potential disease felt like death. I laughed because either way I was fine, I accepted the outcome before it came, whatever it was going to be. I realized that this is a super power—acceptance is the work of alchemy, which is in every way linked to presence and being and becoming.

I rejoiced that I don’t need my life to wholly obey me or fulfill me or even keep me totally healthy. That I am learning to take my life no matter what it brings, even when it brings me HPV⁴. That this is likely a minor practice for the many inconveniences that are yet to come. That no matter what comes, good or bad, the world is not out to get me alone—rather I’m just a part of life, no less no more. I am here, included, cannot be sheltered or obstructed from the discomforts and pains of this world. That I don’t even want to be. And that even these, sometimes, if we dare, can be faced with great reverence. Even joy!

ON MY MIND:

Booklist: God Human Animal Machine is a MUST read. The author’s ability to string past, present and future so intimately with such neat, well researched perspectives is truly fascinating and engaging. Next, Sacred Economics by Charles Eisenstein. If the future is ever going to be post-capitalism, better start reaching for it now.

I bought a backpack specifically with the intent to use it as a “go-bag” incase of an emergency. Yeah, that’s where my heads at these days. It’s like they say, better to be prepared for the apocalypse than not.

If you’re in NYC, I have an upcoming show Monday the 15h at Three Diamond Door, 9 pm. And Wednesday the 17th—I’ll be on the Idiot Hour (@theidiothour on insta) if ya want to see me perform my nun character, Shenunigans!

I love you and everything else in the whole cosmos, too.

1. I wasn’t sure if I should put a trigger warning at the top of this post as some people may be sensitive to talk of AIDS or disease. But I’m not actually a fan of those (trigger warnings), and hoped that if everyone stayed until the end, even if they felt offended by Sarah or me, would understand my overarching point. Thanks for reading!

2. Turns out I’d never really looked under my tongue before, but the (two) pathologists assured me the flesh is not abnormal, but just how my mouth is.

3. We do not deserve or not deserve anything in life, according to me. We have situations we must face and how we do that is an ongoing learning experience and process. In facing life directly and openly, we learn to advocate for our needs and rights as humans. A better way to confront an unwanted situation, instead of using a punishment and/or shame system, is using a curiosity system, which is also much easier on the body. I immediately went into a knee-jerk shame spiral of what I could’ve done to avoid the current situation, instead of kindly comforting myself through it. But I caught onto this quite quickly and re-routed my energy as necessary. Super grateful for such support from myself and my friends and family as well.

4. I understand that HPV is not the same as HIV. But they are both viruses. I have a whole new understanding and respect for people who have become infected with, well, anything. Yes, there are some things we can do to avoid disease in our lives, but sometimes not even those ultimately prevent it. Death is coming and it will happen. We each need love through this process. Whether we are sick, whether we got it because of our own “fault” or not doesn’t matter—love is vital to how we navigate sickness and health.